


(you troubled girl) you could go so far

by green_piggy



Series: bond writes for fe femslash 2020 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, FEFemslash2020, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, i have no idea how this is nearly 8k jesus, i love this ship so so much, if fiona's ooc i don't care she has like ten lines of dialogue, just... soft healing... coping with being rulers... gals supporting gals..., love to see it!!, mainly for micaiah rippo fiona, my favourite past time is developing underdeveloped ladies, my life is suffering, so of course it didn't have an ao3 tag until now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: A few years into the reign of Queen Micaiah, Fiona receives a surprise visitor during heavy rains in Marado.
Relationships: Micaiah/Fiona (Fire Emblem)
Series: bond writes for fe femslash 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630966
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18
Collections: FE Femslash February 2020





	(you troubled girl) you could go so far

**Author's Note:**

> GIRLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLS
> 
> anyway.
> 
> yes we're into the second week of march, but we're wlw all year round here babey!! and, as always, i'm writing more tellius wlw, because i have taste - i don't have much to say, haha. i really love micaiah and i love fiona and i love them together and sometimes you write almost 8k for a ship that has literally no fics and that! is! valid! you gotta put out the content YOU want to see!!
> 
> i pretty much had this song (and other wilsen songs) on repeat while writing this, [check it out here!](https://youtu.be/kNwo-Iu1QyY)
> 
> hope you enjoy~

“You still sure you wanna do this?” Vika asked.

Micaiah nodded. She tugged the hood over her head, tucking back her strands of hair as best as she could.

“You don’t need to wear a hood,” Vika continued. She waved a hand about vaguely. “With, y’know, your…”

“I know,” Micaiah whispered. Glancing around her and seeing the towering mountains and scattered boulders, she felt as though speaking too loud would make the mountainside crumble upon itself. “I just…”

Vika gave a wry smile. Her wings twitched. “Old habits die hard?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Vika said. “I won’t tell a soul.” There was a pause. “Not that I  _ talk  _ to a lot of people, but—”

“I know,” Micaiah murmured. Her body felt very much like it was nothing at all, just a bundle of nerves and flesh ready to fall apart. There was a terrible itching under her skin, energy brimming and singing and  _ burning,  _ like words to a song whose melody you couldn’t remember. She wanted to scream, maybe, and that feeling had only grown worse and worse until she - she  _ had  _ to get away. From the throne, from ruling, from everything that power brought with it. Even now, away from its source, it was barely alleviated. 

She could never leave her country though. She would never abandon her home.

Vika’s face softened. She leaned forward and gave Micaiah a tight hug before letting go with a smile.

“Get there safely.”

Nodding, Micaiah wrung her fingers in the strap of her satchel, again and again, until it began to twist in her skin. With a heavy sigh lost to the silence, she turned and began to walk, the echo of her thudding boots bouncing off the mountains.

It was only when buildings came into view that Micaiah heard the beating of wings. A shadow swooped over her; Micaiah glanced up just in time to see Vika become a tiny black dot in the cloudy sky.

The spring sunlight was beginning to break through. Sighing again, Micaiah walked once more.

* * *

A surprise landslide a few days prior had caused trouble in Marado. Being settled high in the mountains meant that the climate was usually mild and predictable, but the late winter storms had been particularly harsh these last weeks. Fiona hadn’t been surprised when on her morning patrol, she had chanced upon one of the main highways completely blocked off by boulders and mud. No homes had been damaged, thankfully, but it had only just stopped raining, and many fences were also crushed.

At least the highway that led directly to Daein was undamaged. Fiona’s boots splashed through an endless splattering of puddles. Her feet sank and squelched with every step. It was far from pleasant. Fiona’s horse - Duessel - had been forced to remain inside his stables for the last few days due to the heavy rain. She could sense his irritation every time she walked past, no matter how many snippets of carrots she slipped him. Since the main road remained open, there were no immediate worries of food shortages, but they did have to clear away the mud and rubble before it was time to plant their crops.

“Good morning,” Fiona greeted a small group of workers as she approached. “How are we doing today?”

“Not great, Lady Fiona.” A man wiped his forehead with a grunt. “This water’s makin’ it stick something fierce. Damn shovel can barely get in there.”

“I see.” She sighed. “May I assist?”

She held out her arms. The man looked torn, before breaking out into a grateful smile as he handed her the shovel. Fiona stood forward, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work underneath the morning sun.

It wasn’t a particularly warm day, but her back started to ache and her arms groaned as the day dragged on. Other workers came and went, but Fiona herself refused to leave until she had done adequate work. She was the ruler and steward of this town. As small and insignificant as it may have been, it was her  _ home.  _ The responsibility of its well-being and protection fell on  _ her  _ shoulders.

She stopped only when hurried footsteps came pounding towards them. All of them lifted their shovels and turned at the messager. They hunched over on themselves, panting, hands on their knees.

“Is something the matter?” Fiona asked when nobody spoke. “Do we need to fight?”

“N-no, my lady, nothing of the sort!” They threw back their head with a sigh. “A strange lady just - showed up at the Daein entrance. She’s near the well. She  _ seems  _ harmless enough. I merely thought I’d inform you.”

“Oh?” A strange feeling twisted in her chest. It was one that, only with hindsight, she would recognise as the knowledge that a dear friend was near. “...Did she have any distinctive features?”

“She had a hood up, so I dunno.” They rubbed their neck. “...Sorry.”

“You needn’t apologise.” Fiona leaned against her shovel with a hum. “My appearance is… far from stellar, but I will go see who it is.”

She was covered in splotches of mud from head to toe. Her clothing clung to her skin with sweat, and she didn’t dare glance down to see if any patches of her tunic or leggings were drenched. Instead, she handed the shovel to the messenger, who took it with a startled noise. When she smiled, they gave a jerk of a nod before scuttling off to help clear the mud.

Truthfully, it looked as though they had made little progress, but even a tiny amount was better than nothing at all. Fiona nodded to herself, hands on her hips, before she began to walk.

Her heart lodged in her throat as soon as she spotted the figure standing at the well. Their back was to her, hood pulled up tight, but Fiona would recognise that lithe frame anywhere. Even her posture - hands clenched lightly in front of her, head darting around constantly - was one Fiona could hardly forget.

She broke into a small jog down the hill, legs giddy with excitement. She only remembered at the last second that she should act polite, just in case it wasn’t—

But it  _ had  _ to be—

The woman turned at Fiona's encroaching footsteps. From underneath that dark hood, wide golden eyes peered back at Fiona. All doubt was wiped from her mind.

“Lady Micaiah?” she whispered.

Fiona considered herself to be a person well aware of another’s personal space. In that moment, however, she leaned forward as if possessed, her hands lightly gripping the hood. The woman stiffened and made a surprised noise, but she did nothing as Fiona pushed back her hood with a small gasp.

Just as she had thought, in front of her stood Micaiah, current queen and ruler of Daein.

The question of why her country’s ruler was in tiny, insignificant Marado, her distinguishing features hid, was but a whisper in Fiona’s mind. In this moment, she didn’t see her queen, but only an important friend who she had grown to treasure deeply during their months together.

She looked a bit older, but not by much. She'd grown by a few inches and was now almost at Fiona's nose, and had lost some of the fat around her cheeks and neck. Although, judging from the dark circles trenched under her eyes and the lines of exhaustion on a  _ far  _ too young face, those may have been less from aging and more from stress.

Despite all of that, it was still Micaiah, of course. Still her dear,  _ dear  _ friend.

“It’s so wonderful to see you!” Fiona cried. She dropped her hands to Micaiah’s back and engulfed her in a tight hug. Micaiah made another noise, and Fiona fretted that she had accidentally knocked all of the air out of her. She made to lean back to apologise—

And was stopped by Micaiah’s fingers gripping into her back, her arms locked together around her. It wasn’t a hug. It was the action of someone clinging to whatever they could.

Concern wormed into Fiona’s heart, eating away at the joy that had consumed it. “Lady Micaiah..?”

Micaiah pulled away. There was a darkness shadowing her usually vibrant eyes, a slight tremble in her fingers even as she latched them to one another tight. “Please,” she whispered, voice hoarse, “just Micaiah. I don’t care for titles.”

It was difficult to  _ not  _ refer to Micaiah with such formalities. She had such an ethereal, otherworldly presence to her, even before the dark god herself had taken over her body. There was just -  _ something  _ about her that made you want to raise your weapon and fight for her cause. To battle until your dying breath, just to hear her lovely voice grace you.

But Fiona wasn’t blind. Micaiah had flaws, just like any other person, mortal or not. She was too selfless for her own good; Fiona had seen her run herself raggard, skin ashen and clammy, more than a few times. She could also be bullheaded over the oddest of things, and was withdrawn to a fault. Were it not for her duties, Fiona knew she would be quite the reserved person herself, but there was a fine line between being quiet and flat out withholding necessary information Micaiah had often kept mum about her tactics; indeed, Fiona had been just as surprised as the Begnion soldiers when Micaiah threatened to set them alight.

That was the past, though. This was now.

“Micaiah,” Fiona said. A hint of a smile flickered across Micaiah’s face. Fiona’s heart warmed from the sight, as brief as it had been. “Let’s get you something hot to drink. You look cold.”

* * *

The quaint little settlement that Fiona called home was a place that most royalty would have been horrified at the sight of. Little spiderwebs weaved themselves in the house’s many dank corners. Micaiah watched as a spider scuttled across the bumpy ceiling, disappearing outside via a tiny hole. The room had a strange stench, something between rotting wood and moist mud from the ground inside. The cup of tea Fiona had made her was grasped tight in her hands, its contents untouched. She’d gone out to attend to her horse, and would be back in five, four, three, two, one—

A gust of air chilled the air as the door opened. Micaiah turned her head slightly. Fiona was taking off her boots, splats of dry mud caking off onto the ground. When she noticed Micaiah’s gaze on her, she looked up with a small smile. It was an awkward thing. Micaiah squirmed in her chair, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Yet again, she wondered if coming here had been the right decision. Would it have been better for everyone if she had disappeared without a trace?

But Fiona’s smile, despite its awkwardness, seemed nothing but sincere, and Micaiah couldn’t sense a hint of any discouraging emotion. No annoyance, no irritation - only a warmth and love she had been entirely unprepared for. Micaiah may not have understood it, but that didn’t negate the fact that it existed.

“Sorry for keeping you,” Fiona said. She sat on a rickety stool that groaned and mumbled under her, but somehow didn’t break.

“It’s alright,” Micaiah answered, her head facing the wooden table. As an oppressive silence fell, her fingers tightened around her drink.

“Ah—” A scrape of a stool. Fiona’s hand ghosted Micaiah’s own, drawing away as soon as it had touched. “—be careful. Did the drink burn your hands?”

“Huh?” Micaiah peeled her hands away. She hadn’t felt the heat at all, had just assumed it to be a mug of water, but when she peeked inside, a slush of brown greeted her. Tea that had long since gone cold. She pulled off one glove, then the other. The insides of her palms were a stark red, but the little cracks in her skin had already started to heal. “Oh…”

“Do you need healing?” Fiona’s eyes were as wide as saucers when she caught sight of Micaiah’s hands. “I know healers can’t heal themselves - we have a few nuns visiting, if you—”

“It’s alright,” Micaiah interrupted, voice gentle but firm. “I... “ She swallowed. “You already know that I am not like most people. It’s already healing. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“But…”

Micaiah curled the fingers on her right hand, watching the shape of her brand shift as her knuckles tightened. She let go and stretched them out. Despite her life of poverty (the old woman had been kind, especially towards a Branded, but she had not been wealthy), of living on the streets and jumping from city to city until very recently, her hands showed not a trace of hardship. They were as bony and flawless as they always had been. Such was the ‘gift’ of the powers she possessed. Her body could naturally heal small wounds, little cuts and scrapes, within hours.

She made to put her glove back on, but the movement of Fiona’s hand stilled her.

“You needn’t do that,” she said. “It’s a beautiful brand.”

“I…” Micaiah’s voice caught in her throat. “Surely you can’t mean that.”

“I do!”

Nobody had ever called it  _ beautiful  _ before. Not the old woman, or Sothe, or anyone in her little family. It was always something to be hidden, to be concealed under cloth and buckle, never to be revealed to another. Something that marked her as being  _ wrong _ .

But… she was Daein’s ruler, wasn’t she? And the people  _ knew.  _ They knew that she was Branded. Perhaps they were too blinded by her achievements during the war to fully acknowledge that she was one of the very people who they spent so much of their history hunting and killing.

Or maybe… maybe things really were starting to change. Slowly, but surely.

And here Micaiah was, away from the throne, because she couldn’t handle it.

“Micaiah?” Fiona’s voice broke through her thoughts yet again. And, yet  _ again,  _ she sounded so concerned and worried.

“I’ll… keep them off,” Micaiah murmured. She tucked them into her stachel, feeling horribly naked with her hands bare. She wanted to wrap her scarf around them or twist the skirt of her dress to cover them or -  _ anything.  _ Anything other than this.

But everybody knew.  _ Fiona  _ knew. She didn’t care.

Darkness was starting to flood the room. Fiona stood up and grabbed a candle holder and set it alight with a flick of a match. In that second the flame roared to life before calming, its light caught on a cut on Fiona’s arm.

It was as though Micaiah had been torn away from a dream. She felt more alert than she had all day - all  _ month,  _ perhaps, as she leaned forward. “What’s that?”

“Hmm?” Fiona’s brow creased in confusion. She slowly held up the candle holder, frowning, giving Micaiah a befuddled look. She glanced to the candle, then back to Micaiah again. “This is a… candle?”

“No—” Micaiah let out a small snort— “no, not that,” she continued, voice amused. “On your arm.”

_ “Oh!  _ This?” Fiona set the holder on the desk between them and held out her arm. “I caught my arm on a stray nail on the fence while feeding Duessel. It hardly stings.”

But Micaiah wasn’t paying any attention to her words. All she could focus on was that tiny, slim little thing that was barely noticeable at all. To Micaiah, her arm might as well have been ruptured open and bleeding blood and gore over the table.

“I can heal it,” she heard herself say. “I may not have a staff, but I still have my powers.”

“Micaiah, you don’t—” Fiona shook her head. “...It’ll heal in a few days. I promise.”

“I can heal it  _ now.” _

“You needn’t—”

“Please,” Micaiah pleaded, “allow me to do this.  _ Please.” _

She herself didn’t know why she was so desperate. Perhaps it was a need, so strong and overwhelming, to be useful to  _ someone.  _ Even just one person. Even if she had temporarily abandoned her kingdom and home, surely,  _ surely,  _ she could help a single friend. She had to be able to do that much.

Fiona’s face softened. She dragged her stool forward and sat on it again. She held out her arm without a word.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Micaiah rested her hands on Fiona’s arm and closed her eyes. It was a small wound, not at all deep or serious, but it would irritate and itch if left untreated. Injuries like these were ones Micaiah could heal in her sleep.

Was this what the herons felt like as they used their healing? The previous apostles of Begnion (oh, how badly she wanted to see her dear sister again)? Lehran himself? It felt  _ natural,  _ as though she was using energy for any other activity and not giving it to another.

The darkness behind her eyelids became brighter, softer, as her magic brimmed to life. She heard Fiona exhale - and then, as soon as enough was enough, Micaiah let go. She pulled her hands away. The warm light dissipated. In its wake was an awful chill, one that she yearned to fill with her power’s warmth.

“Wow…” Fiona breathed out. Micaiah came back to herself and leaned away as fast as she could, mindful of personal space.

“T-that should be it,” she murmured. Her voice stuttered for an entirely different reason from the usual exhaustion after healing. Embarrassment, most likely, at how  _ clingy  _ and desperate she had been earlier. Despite how well she could read others, Micaiah had always struggled identifying her own emotions. She knew that part of that, at least, came down to the large amount of Chaos energy she had within her. All of the Branded individuals she’d met had had Chaos pooling within them, twisting and lurching and wailing, their emotions howling to be let out from the cool facade many of them wore. Zelgius, Soren, Stefan… all of them pretending to be detached, all of them bursting with so much  _ emotion _ and  _ pain. _

She wondered if she was like them, too. If she was carrying some sort of burden so deep and so heavy that she herself didn't realise. Did that pain come from being Branded, or did it come from the prejudice and hatred that the world piled upon them, simply for who they were?

A part of her, deep inside, knew that it was the latter.

“You really are incredible,” Fiona murmured.

“Ah… thank you.”

Fiona twisted and flexed her arm, admiring it in the candle light. No matter how much Micaiah stared, she couldn’t see even an inch of the cut from before.

“Feels as good as new!” she said, beaming. “Thank you, Micaiah.”

Micaiah smiled back. She hated how it wobbled and trembled on her lips, but Fiona’s own smile grew as if she’d caught the first glimpse of a plentiful harvest.

“Do you want to help me with making dinner?” she asked. “I was planning on soup, but if you’d rather have something else, I’m sure we can manage.”

“Soup sounds lovely,” Micaiah said, her voice raspy. The stool creaked under her as she stood. The sunset’s final rays bounced off the bowls and pots and other utensils, dying the world outside a splash of radiance as the sun disappeared behind Marado’s towering mountains. As it snatched away spring’s warmth, Fiona lit up a few more candles before they started on dinner together.

It felt rather domestic. It almost felt like coming home.

* * *

“Lady Fiona!” one of the workers greeted them the next day. Fiona had told Micaiah that she could rest if she wanted - goddess knew she looked like she needed it - but Micaiah, being Micaiah, had insisted on coming along. She had her hood down and her gloves back on, and her silver hair had drawn more than a few looks. Thankfully, nobody so far had questioned it. Apparently the official word was that Queen Micaiah had overexerted herself (so, the truth) and taken to bedrest for a few weeks while Pelleas, now serving the count, temporarily took her duties with trusted personnel at his side.

“Ah, Callum,” she greeted. “Apologies for leaving you unattended on such short notice yesterday. This lady here—” She gestured towards Micaiah, who gave a weak smile— “is a dear friend of mine from the war.”

“Huh.” He stroked his chin. “Her hair kinda reminds me of that Silver-Haired Maiden lady.” He gasped. “She’s not—”

“No, no, no!” Fiona interrupted quickly, waving her hands. Micaiah had the gall to look somewhat  _ amused.  _ “Not at all! Multiple people have silver hair, you know.” A beat of silence. “I mean,  _ I  _ have purple hair.”

“Eh.” Callum shrugged. “Purple’s not that unusual.”

Fiona blinked. “...Purple’s  _ not  _ that—”

“I get mistaken for her quite a bit,” came Micaiah’s soft voice. “But I’m not her.”

“She isn’t! Not at all!” Fiona’s brain was, safe to say, scrambled. “Her name is - her name’s Mickey!”

A beat of silence. Fiona heard the bones in Micaiah’s neck creak as she slowly turned towards her. Fiona didn’t dare look back.

“...Mickey?” Callum repeated. “So even your  _ names  _ are similar?”

Micaiah threw Fiona the minutest of glares before speaking with a sincere smile. “Yes, unfortunately. It’s led to many a reaction similar to yours.”

“A-ah, I didn’t mean to be offensive.” Callum rubbed his neck. “Well, any friend of Lady Fiona’s a friend of ours, Mickey. Pleasure to meet ya.”

“Likewise.” A gentle smile came across Micaiah’s face. It was such a foreign sight that it made Fiona stumble over herself figuratively. “I’ll be here for a short while, so I’ll assist in any way I can.”

“Aww, you’re too kind, Mickey!” Callum beamed a toothy grin before trudging away, mumbling to himself. “Mickey… used to have a mouse called Mickey…”

As soon as they were alone again, Micaiah’s smile slid off, replaced with a slight frown both exasperated and amused. “‘Mickey?’  _ Really?  _ You couldn’t think of any other name?”

“I didn’t think anyone was going to ask!”

And thus, Micaiah, the Priestess of Dawn, Queen and Saviour of Daein, was formally dubbed as ‘Mickey’.

Micaiah fell into their regular schedule with an ease that was almost frightening. She took up a few staves they had scattered around from the war effort and offered to patch up any wounds anyone got from their work. Watching her chat and laugh with Fiona's people, many of whom were reserved or always suspicious of newcomers, and seeing them be so welcoming and open… it gave Fiona the distinct feeling that Micaiah had had to learn very early on in her life how to blend in as well as possible.

She was also given a small tent near the well to do her work from. Queues of people would snake up the hill, not for healing, but for a chance to have their fortune told. She had an eerie gift for it; when Fiona asked, a few days later, she quietly confessed that it was thanks to the heron blood within her veins. No, she couldn’t tell the future, but she  _ could  _ sense people’s emotions, and thus their thoughts to an extent, and gently push them along a route with sweet words and a small smile. She never did anything  _ harmful  _ with her predictions; she insisted on doing them for free, and seemed to take quite a bit of joy in her little hobby.

“It was the only way I could make money growing up,” Micaiah had explained the first night her and Fiona agreed to share a bed, as she was tugging on borrowed night clothes. They’d chosen to share mainly because the wind could rattle the window terribly, and neither of them had the energy to shove the other bed away from it after a long day of work. “You’ve seen me. I don’t have muscle. And growing up in Daein…” She sighed. “Magic rarely had its uses. And if I went overboard, and if people  _ realised…” _

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” Fiona whispered. Marado may have had little, and Fiona may have seen her father rarely, but at least she’d  _ had  _ one - one who had been one of the Four Riders. She’d grown up with a lance in one hand and a pen in the other, and while her education was nothing compared to Daein’s finest royalty, it was better than most. She had to worry no more than the average citizen about the next meal or where they were going to get money from, surrounded by a tight-knit community of people who always had each other’s backs. Who could  _ afford  _ to have each other’s backs.

She couldn’t imagine growing up without that support, yet countless people had.

“You needn’t apologise,” Micaiah murmured. “And I rather enjoy doing it now - oh!” She rested a hand over Fiona’s arm, her eyes sliding shut and her fingers glowing as she healed a tiny wound before Fiona could stop her. It seemed to come naturally to her, allowing magic to flow through her. As someone who’d grown up without so much as a whiff of magic within her, it was - strange. Not unpleasant. Just different. “There,” she said with a slight smile.

“It doesn’t weaken you?” Fiona asked. She brought her fingers up to tangle in Micaiah’s own. It was a subconscious instinct, but while Micaiah’s golden eyes widened in the moonlight, she didn’t pull away. Her pale fingers tightened around Fiona’s. “Even healing a small wound?”

Micaiah shook her head, still smiling. It softened her weary eyes and made her cheeks glow. “Not at all, I assure you. When I was first using it? Yes. But it’s become second nature to me, now. And in times like these, when there is barely any Chaos energy in the air, it’s as easy as breathing.” She squeezed Fiona’s hand. “But thank you for your concern. You’re very kind, Fiona.”

“As are you, Micaiah.” With her free hand, Fiona tugged the quilt over them both. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

But despite the quaint days, as one week dragged into the next, it was impossible to ignore the growing tightness on Micaiah’s face, the unhappiness etching itself deep grooves under her eyes and cheeks, but it was something that Fiona simply didn’t know  _ how  _ to address. Not when she was always so gentle and at ease around Fiona. She didn’t want to ruin that.

One late night, though, that changed.

* * *

It was well past the time either of them usually slept. Micaiah knew that Fiona had had a longer day than expected, and the moon was stung high in the sky by the time she returned. The worst part was that Micaiah  _ knew  _ that she was back, and yet, listening to her footsteps as she moved around the house, she made no effort to move. She couldn’t, not when her chest was so heavy that she felt as though she was suffocating. She had been trying for so,  _ so  _ long, to ignore this awfulness in her chest, this cynical hatred of herself and of everything, her duties and her fame and -  _ and… _

Yet, now, on this perfectly mundane day, was when she broke under the weight of nothingness.

The bed creaked. Micaiah jolted, head shooting up from where she had it resting in her arms atop her curled up legs. Fiona was there, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Micaiah?”

It was several seconds before Micaiah could make her throat work. She buried her head in her folded arms. “...I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I - I knew you’d be home soon, I just - I was…”

She made a frustrated sound, one that vibrated against her skin. She didn’t need to glance up to physically  _ feel _ the concern worming about inside of Fiona. It was stronger than the sun in a summer’s day.

“...You’ve been quiet for the past few days,” Fiona prodded gently, as if that wasn’t something that they both already knew. As if Micaiah had been -  _ off  _ the entire time she’d been here. If Micaiah was doing well, she wouldn’t have been in Marado at all. She would be on her throne, like a good ruler, doing her duties, like a  _ good ruler.  _ “Is something the matter?”

Micaiah tried to laugh, but it came off as a horrible cynical noise, full of emotions that she couldn’t always keep down. She brought her fist to her mouth, teeth worrying over her skin. She had her gloves off. The pattern of her brand was stark in the moonlight. At least that twinge of self-hatred, of wanting to rip it clean off her skin, was no longer as strong as it once had been. She wasn’t the only Branded in all of existence, as she had once thought, for the longest time.

“What  _ isn’t  _ the matter?” she whispered. “I…”

Silence stretched.

“If you wish to talk about it,” Fiona began, “I… I am here.” Her hand hovered in the air. Eventually, it fell onto her lap. Micaiah both ached for it and would scream if anything was to touch her.

Fiona’s eyes never left her.

Micaiah pressed her fist against her lips hard enough to make the surrounding skin whiter than her hair.

“Am I even a good ruler?” Micaiah whispered to her fist. 

“Of course you—”

“No, I’m not,” she snapped. Her words came tumbling out of her, thoughts and secrets she’d sealed away so tightly that they came gushing out as soon as the lock was sprung. And all it had taken was the kindness of another. “I ran away because I couldn’t handle the throne. My blood is from  _ Begnion.  _ I know it doesn’t matter, not really, but I’m - I’m not even a beorc, or a laguz. I’m a parentless. I don’t hate myself for it, not any longer, but—” She gulped down air. “...My people may accept me now, but what will happen as they age and I don’t? As they gain wrinkles and grey hairs and grow old, and I barely age a year or two physically?” She shook her head. “I’m not even suitable for leadership. I  _ hate  _ it, but I - I  _ want  _ to lead Daein into peace, into growth, but I loathe attention. I almost failed us during the war - I  _ would  _ have failed us, were it not for—”

Fiona’s hand rested over her own. Her body froze. “Micaiah.”

She fell silent. Micaiah squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped that the candlelight didn’t expose the tears she could feel silently snaking down her cheeks.

“Micaiah,” Fiona repeated. “If… if you truly  _ are  _ such a horrible ruler, then why did you remain in Daein at all?”

Micaiah opened her eyes and looked up at Fiona’s own, blazing with a determination she couldn’t look away from. “...Pardon?”

“I mean it.” Fiona rested a hand on her chest. The other hand remained on Micaiah’s own, and she had no wish to draw away from that warmth. “You had any number of places you could have gone to. Your sister is the empress of Begnion, is she not? You could have gone there easily.”

“But…”

“You’re close with Queen Elincia. There was nothing stopping you from going to Crimea. And even Gallia - the laguz have become much more friendlier with us after the recent wars, with no small thanks to  _ your  _ efforts.” She smiled. “And yet, here you are, in a forgotten backwater town in Daein. You  _ stayed  _ with your people. If that doesn’t show how much you love them… how  _ good _ of a ruler you are…” She scoffed. “Well. I don’t know  _ what  _ would. I may only be the steward of a small settlement, but I  _ know  _ I’m right.” She squeezed. “A truly terrible ruler would have ran far, far away, and never look back without a second thought. The fact that you’re so  _ convinced  _ you’re an awful ruler is just proof that you’re the exact opposite. The people of Daein  _ adore  _ you.”

“You’re wrong,” Micaiah blurted out. She felt so exposed, so  _ vulnerable.  _ Why couldn’t Fiona  _ see?  _ “I came here because I knew you’d be here, and I - I always liked you. A lot. A-and Marado was far closer than any of those places you mentioned.” She was faltering, her brain blanking. “And—”

“Micaiah,  _ please,”  _ Fiona whispered, voice agonised. “You  _ must  _ give yourself credit. Perhaps you’re not perfect, yes. But  _ nobody  _ is. There isn’t one single person who can please every single one of their subjects. But I  _ know  _ that I - and so many other people - agree that you’re doing a magnificent job. Traders that come through here praise all of the new routes you’ve helped establish. They say that even a few laguz have started to sell wares in Daein.  _ Laguz!  _ In  _ Daein!”  _ She rested her other palm under the one holding Micaiah’s, and squeezed her hand between both of her own. “Even just a few years ago, that would have been  _ unthinkable!  _ You’ve achieved so much.”

“...Fiona…”

“You just needed a break,” Fiona murmured with a tentative smile. “And that’s just part of being a  _ person.  _ Everybody needs a break. Even I delegate my duties to people I trust on some days, and my work is much less stressful than your own. You  _ must  _ stop placing the weight of Daein on your shoulders. It’s making you drown. No one person can carry an entire nation by themselves.”

“Fiona…”

“I think some sleep will do you good,” Fiona gently suggested. “You haven’t been sleeping well recently. You’re a  _ wonderful  _ ruler, Micaiah. This reaction of yours is perfectly ordinary. I’m…” She squeezed her hand again. “I feel honoured that you came to seek me out. Of all people. Deeply honoured. I hope I haven’t disappointed.”

“Not at all.” Micaiah shook her head. She gave a weak hiccup, forcing a heavy breath down her aching chest. Her throat and eyes stung. And, yet, despite all of this, it felt as though a terrible burden had been lifted from her shoulders. One so heavy, and yet so familiar that she had forgotten she was carrying it at all. “...Thank you, Fiona. For everything.”

The corners of Fiona’s eyes wrinkled with her smile. She was so beautiful. “You’re welcome. Now, how about we sleep?”

Micaiah couldn’t argue with that. They got into the same bed, as what was now routine, and Micaiah felt an arm around her back when she closed her eyes. A hand found hers; she squeezed it, folding in as she drifted off to one of the best sleeps she’d had for a long, long time.

* * *

There was a furious rasping on the window plane. Fiona groaned and cracked an eye open. Next to her, Micaiah grumbled and shuffled, curling in on herself tighter than before. Perhaps it was just a stray pigeon too dumb to realise that it couldn’t go through glass.

The rasping continued. Groaning to herself, Fiona accepted her fate of having to get up before the crack of dawn and cracked open her other eye—

And screamed.

Micaiah shot up in a flash, wide awake, strands of light magic curling around her fingertips. “What is it!?”

Her gaze slid to the window, its curtains slightly askew - and then she broke into laughter.  _ Laughter! _

“What are you  _ laughing  _ at?” Fiona hissed.

“I’m going to end her one of these days,” Micaiah wheezed out in-between her giggles. She slid out of bed, snatching one of the blankets to wrap around herself. She pulled the curtains back fully and unlatched the window. Dusk flooded the room like an old friend. “Hello, Vika.”

“Yo.” The woman - Vika - folded herself into the bedroom with all the ease of someone walking through a door. Fiona watched wings unfurl and spring forth from her back. Tiny little black feathers scattered in the air and landed around her sandals. She yawned, stretching a hand out in front of her and bending her arm behind her neck. “Glad to see you’re still alive, Micaiah.”

“Did you have to come in like  _ that?” _

“Course.” Vika yawned again. “I mean, I could have shrieked, but I didn’t think you or your lady friend would appreciate it.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t—” Micaiah’s entire face became aglow. “How did you even find me!?”

“I could smell you. Duh. Kinda hard to with your partner’s scent—”

“W-we’re  _ not—” _

“Huh.” Vika blinked. “Coulda fooled me. Y’know, with sleepin’ in the same bed and all.”

Micaiah didn’t give a response, too busy burying her face in her hands.

“She’s pretty cute,” she continued, either unaware of social cues or simply not caring. From the slight smirk she had, Fiona was  _ strongly  _ suspecting the latter.

“It’s - it’s just more convenient this way! T-the window is noisy!” Fiona spluttered.

Vika’s gaze slid over to the empty bed on the other side of the room, its sheets untouched for at least a week. She didn’t say anything, but the narrow glint of her azure-blue eyes, along with the arch of her eyebrows, said it all.

“...Anyway,” Vika eventually said. “As promised, I’m here.”

“It’s been three weeks already?” Micaiah murmured.

“Yep.” Vika popped the word on her lips. “How you doing?” A small smile stretched across her face. “You definitely look a lot better.” Without warning, her fingers gripped Micaiah’s cheeks and tugged, ignoring how she groaned and complained at the kneading of her face. Fiona just watched, amused. It was very much like watching an older sister bully their younger sibling. “Look at that smile!”

“Vikaaaaaa,” Micaiah whined. Until very recently, Fiona would never have put Micaiah as the type of person to  _ whine. _

“I’m glad for you!” Vika gave her shoulder a light punch, so gentle that it couldn’t have hurt. Her eyes roamed towards Fiona. “You’re Fiona, right? I remember us fighting together during the war.”

“Ah… yes.” Now that she had mentioned it, Fiona did remember the swooping black wings of a raven laguz flying over her on multiple occasions. From what she remembered, Vika hadn’t fought  _ that  _ often, but she could move faster than a blink of an eye.

“You better treat Micaiah right,” she said, “or else I’ll smack you hard and proper. Got it?”

“I would never—”

Vika’s voice dropped.  _ “Got it?” _

Standing face-to-face with the mightiest of all dragons had been less frightening than  _ this,  _ and Fiona wasn’t someone easily scared. She swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Good!” Vika beamed. “I’m not  _ that  _ strong, sheesh, no need to look so scared. Worst thing I’ll do is claw your face open and leave your—”

“Okay okay  _ I think that’s quite enough,”  _ Micaiah squeaked while Fiona was imagining numerous scenarios of her skin being torn from her flesh, all of them equally horrible. Micaiah’s smile faded, but that quiet glow she had about her didn’t. “You came here to help me travel back to Daein, yes?”

“Sure did.” Vika stretched again, tapping her sandals against the ground. “You ready to go back?”

Micaiah glanced back to Fiona with a wistful smile. Fiona smiled back.

“I think I am,” Micaiah said when she turned back. “I’ve left my country long enough.”

“Oh, everything’s fine, don’t worry.” Vika scratched her nose. “Pelleas has things surprisingly under control. Not a blood pact or creepy, definitely-not-evil tactician guy in sight! But… yeah. Your family’s gonna worry ‘emselves six foot under.”

Micaiah giggled behind her fist. “Oh, I can imagine! Sothe is probably pacing himself a grave in the ground.”

Vika snorted. “Your brother will  _ not  _ stop worrying. Overprotective siblings, huh?”

“Like you’re one to talk!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Vika held her hands up. “I’ll, uh, let you guys finish up with each other. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Instead of leaving the room in the way that most people would have had, Vika hauled herself out of the window and dropped straight down. Fiona watched her before her eyes slid over to the perfectly functional staircase.

Micaiah caught her gaze with a fond chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. Vika is… quite unusual.”

“You don’t say.” Fiona gripped her wrist with her hand, suddenly self-conscious. She swallowed down past the nerves that had suddenly suffocated the room. “...You have to leave so soon?”

“I’ve stayed here longer than I should.” Micaiah glanced away, but she didn’t look regretful. “I  _ am  _ Daein’s ruler, after all. Although… I will share my burden with others when I return.” She looked back at Fiona. “Thank you, Fiona. For accommodating me, and for… everything else.”

“Think nothing of it.” She made to bow, stopping herself at the last second and instead smiling. “It was a pleasure. Truly.”

Micaiah smiled. “Care to help me pack?”

“Of course.”

She had little to pack, save for an extra staff and tome, but they still spent their sweet time in Fiona’s bedroom simply chatting to one another. Eventually, when the sun was beginning to rise, they decided that it was time.

Fiona caught Micaiah staring wistfully at the house as they walked to its entrance. She snaked a hand over the table, taking in each and every inch of it that she could. Fiona knew that she would miss it. She wasn’t a lady of luxury by any definition of the word.

“Fiona?”

Her hand stopped on the door handle. “Yes?”

When Micaiah didn’t speak further, she turned, her hand falling to her side. “Micaiah?”

Micaiah was biting her lip, clearly torn with herself. Then, she swallowed, and stepped forward and grabbed the front of Fiona’s tunic. Her other hand reached around the back of her neck and yanked. Before Fiona could blink, her lips were covered by Micaiah’s.

It was nothing like how the novels described romance. No fire spells exploded in Fiona’s stomach. The world didn’t suddenly glow. Her heart didn’t thump out of her chest.

_ Ah,  _ Fiona’s mind went, and that was the moment she realised she was in love.

When Micaiah fell back, Fiona gripped Micaiah’s retreating hand and pulled her in for another kiss.

“I’ll visit,” Micaiah panted when they broke apart. “I - I will. I promise.”

“I know you will.” Fiona smiled, her thumb rubbing Micaiah’s cheek. “And I look forward to it.”

“I’ll write to you,” Micaiah babbled. She squeezed her eyes shut. Somehow, when tiny tears started to drip down her cheeks, Fiona wasn’t surprised. She rested both of her hands on Micaiah’s face and wiped them away. Micaiah trembled like a twig under her. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t - I’m just so—”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

Micaiah didn’t. Neither did she move her head or attempt to move away. Her hands weakly held Fiona’s wrists as she brushed away Micaiah’s tears until they stopped.

“You ready?”

Micaiah nodded, eyes glistening. “...Thank you.”

Fiona smiled. “You’ve nothing to thank me for. But you’re very welcome.”

One hand in Micaiah’s, her other reached for the door handle and turned.

The door creaked as it opened. Vika was crouched down next to a pile of weeds and grass nearby. Her fingers poked at the curious wiggling heads of a few worms who had popped out of the mud. She twisted her head as they approached and stood.

“You ready to go?”

Micaiah nodded, her satchel gripped tight to her chest. “Yes.”

Vika smiled. Then, she scowled, leaning in with her hands on her hips, peering at Micaiah’s face. “DId you..?”

Letting out a shaky laugh, Micaiah shook her head. “They’re good ones. I promise.”

“Huh.” Vika leaned back. “Glad to hear it.” She thrusted a finger at Micaiah’s chest. “You always bottle up your feelings way too much. Let ‘em out.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

Micaiah turned to Fiona. “Thank you, Fiona. For allowing me to stay here for so long. For not pressuring or pushing me. For just…” Her face glowed with her smile. “...For just being  _ you.  _ I appreciate it so,  _ so  _ much. I…”

“It’s alright,” Fiona said. “We’ll meet again. You needn’t force yourself.”

“We will!” Micaiah nodded. “Of course! But, for now…”

“Yes. It’s okay. I  _ understand.  _ I understand how precious Daein is to you. I feel much the same about Marado. Go forth and protect it.”

Micaiah nodded again. She held Fiona in a tight hug before letting go with a warm smile. She grabbed Fiona’s hand with her bare one and gave it a gentle kiss, grinning at Fiona’s flustered, reddening face before letting go.

Vika flapped her wings and ascended. A harsh glow overtook her body; the transformation of a laguz. When she was done, Micaiah climbed onto her back, hair and clothing fluttering in the breeze.

“I’ll see you soon!” Micaiah called.

“I look forward to it!”

Vika took flight. Fiona watched Micaiah soar further and further away, her chest aching even as she knew this was for the best. These few unexpected weeks together were a precious gift far beyond anything she could have expected.

After seconds, or perhaps minutes, had gone past, Fiona turned and went to her people. Pebbles and dry mud crunched under her boots as she approached the landslide. There was a small path through it now. Their next step was to widen it enough to allow cargo to travel through.

“Where’d Mickey go?” Callum asked her when Fiona took a shovel from him.

“Oh, she had to leave. She wasn’t meant to stay for so long.”

“Aww. A damn shame, that. I’d never seen you so glowin’ from happiness before, Lady Fiona.” He held his hands up. “No offense!”

Fiona leaned on her shovel, gazing into the sky. “Don’t worry,” she said, her fingertips resting on her bottom lip. If she peered into that cloudless sky, she swore she saw a blob of black and silver searing across the rays of dawn. “She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [i have a twitter if you wanna check it out!!](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles)
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! please consider leaving a kudos or comment if you liked it!! especially on ridiculously niche fics like this, they mean sooooo much to us authors - thank you!! <3 <3


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